On Translating Badly: Sacrificing Authenticity of Language in the Interest of Story and Character

Abstract

I believe it is fair to say that translators are, by and large, meticulous people. Fastidious. Exacting. Fussy. But then in fairness we bear a heavy responsibility: that of absorbing the full intent of an author and rendering that intent, as faithfully and authentically as possibly, in another language. It is a task of broad assimilation; in the case of a work like a novel, the assimilation of philosophy, theme, plot, and character as well as of language. Successful translation is therefore a holistic act, one that demands a total grasp of subject, from overarching concept to the most minuscule detail. Yet for many of us, the multidimensionality of the translating task becomes obscured by the particulars of the languages we work in. We obsess over individual words and phrases, poring over dictionaries and thesauri in search of the combination of syllables that conveys just the right nuances of meaning, context, rhythm, and sound. This is of course understandable, and arguably the job description of a translator. Yet in that obsession lies risk: of losing sight of the larger elements of the story in a single-minded pursuit of linguistic accuracy. It is the kind of mistake I very nearly made in the course of a recent project, the translation of the novel Un martes como hoy (2004) by Cecilia Urbina, whereby I failed to take into account the background, intentions, and limitations of one of the novel’s central characters. The initial mistake, which was rooted primarily in the dialogue, was an honest one, springing from a translator’s instinct to authentically render period language. Yet had I not ultimately perceived the error, much of the playfulness and feel of the original novel, to say nothing of some of the larger thematic elements, might well have been lost. The following essay is the story of the error that nearly was. Un martes como hoy